Lull
by Yvi
Summary: A couple dancers get productive in their spare time. [femmeslash]


Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.  

Notes: Yes, this is Dominatrix/Tattoo, and it's about as fluffy as these two are likely to get. Not what I expected either, no. 

For Petal, who asked for Domitat when I begged a pairing off her, and whose Tattoo dazzles me into dumbness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wanna know what it's like, I c'n tell." Colorful shoulders shimmying, images seeming to shift, serpentine, beneath the loosely crisscrossing straps of an underdress.

"Where d'you get off saying that?" Languidly, one spade-shaped fingernail tracing an emerald-inked dragon. 

"Y'think I've never had anyone look at me the way you do? Thinkin', 'Oh God Jesus, she must be crazy, look at what she's got all over her.' Then, after you've looked for a bit longer an' there's not so much of a surprise, 'Maybe it's not quite so crazy as it looks.' You're curious." 

"And you're impertinent," halfheartedly applying plain palm to bright back just hard enough to leave a quickly fading print; voice low, glissando to a chilling purr. "You keep that up and I'll have to punish you."

A saltwater laugh, answered by a paper-pure arm flinging a pillow against tangled claret curls. "How long's it gonna take till you realize I ain't one o'the clients?" Shoving the pillow aside, settling on an elaborately decorated elbow. "Don' waste th'chains and blades on me." Pause. "B'sides, if y'fuck with the inks you're dead, or I am. Can't afford too many cuts or scars."

"Still got the one from before?"

"Faded, but yeah. Y'mean you didn't notice?" 

"No; let's see." Shrewd fingers reaching for cheap mirrored buttons. "How many are still…?" 

Sniff; drawing away. "Quite tryin' t'change the subject." 

"You didn't seem to mind the first time I asked about them. Not like I wasn't nice about it."

"Nice, that's it: y'corner me, spinnin' a knife like a baton, and demandin' grim as death t'know how many inks I have. How else was I s'posed to answer? You were drunk an' armed an' already at my laces. I'm not stupid."

Smeared red mouth dropping into a shocked circle. "I beg your—"

"Domi, innocence don't suit you half as well as other things. Leave it to people who c'n pull it off."

Lips curling back into their accustomed smirk. "Oh, shut up. I didn't hear any complaining then and I haven't since."

"Anyway­, like I was _tryin' _to say, ­do we really need to have this talk again?" A flourish of varicolored arms. "You know about all kinds of pain, but not this one. That's solved easy enough. I'll give y'one, no charge, no problem, and then you'll know." 

A flash of teeth, but no answer.

"C'mon, you've gotta tell me this time." Small smile, voice lowering, one hand creeping through red and black hair. "Have y'ever thought of what it might feel like to have somethin' carved into your skin? Right up your alley, I'd think." 

Still no response; teeth closing on perplexingly pristine neck-skin.

Casually, "You scared? Scared I'll have some kinda edge over you if I give you one?"

A bite, enough to evoke a wince. "Not you or anyone else, ever." Glaring fit to melt stone. "Do it. Hurry up."

"Hang on, let me get things set." 

"What're you gonna draw?"

Musingly, "I could do my name inside a heart; sailors favor those. Some of 'em have even had my name done on 'em."

"No claim markers, Glorianne, else I'll gut you with a candlestick. I thought you were more creative than that."

Hand lifted, blowing a mocking kiss. "Don' get all defensive. Hold still; I know what I'll do. Where d'you want it?"

"Where's good?" Pause. "Is there gonna be much blood?"

A grin. "Will it make you feel better if there is?"

"Shut up."

"It shouldn't hurt too much."

"You're worried about hurting _me_?"

"Look, just 'cause you crack whips for a living don't mean you ain't allowed to bleed. I'll do the arm, all right, so it'll be out in view."

"And you've done this before, then?"

Dark eyes glimmering knowingly. "Yeah. Look, I did these few myself. One of the artists taught me. Now for Christ's sake stop moving." Speculatively, "Where d'you keep your handcuffs?"

"You'd never _dare_—damn it!"

"Shush, is there pain?" 

Benignly, though clenched teeth. "Nothing I can't take. Keep going."

"Good t'hear it."

"What're you drawing, did you say?"

"A flower."

"A _what?_ A fucking _flower? _God Almighty, you'd better be joking else I don't care how many…"

"Yeah, I'm joking. Now quit thrashing around; you're makin' it tough to go on."

"I'm gonna kill you when this is over, I think."

"Let's not be hasty, love; you might want another. ­It's a spider; black and red, so it'll go with your dresses. Did that get my neck out of the noose?" 

Grumbling. "Maybe I'll save it for a special occasion, once I stop feelin' like an entire goddamn needle factory's emptying itself in my arm."

"There. Done."

"Y'mean that was it? That's all there is to it?"  

Smugly. "Doesn't look too bad, does it? Told you so."

"Brat." Wincing imperceptibly; surveying. Jet-black eyebrows arching in something like surprise. "Guess you didn't botch it up as bad as I thought." 

"Yeah, you're welcome. Look, stay down for a bit; I've known grown men who'd faint afterward."

"I'm supposed to just stay here? Confined?"

"If that's what you wanna call it, yeah." Pause, blinking vapidly back at a frown. "What, did you want company?"

Back to the purr, intense. "Oh, you're not going anywhere. I'm not suffering by myself."

Naturally. Staying long enough to swap shades of lipstick and acquire a trail of bruises down the back of the still ink-free neck. Skin covered with everything from stars to roses to the occasional fold of thin chemise fabric. Two pairs of hands, both as white any good lady's. One, scarlet-clawed and deliberate as the trinkets it habitually brandished. The other, placid with the knowledge that their owner could mark the dominatrix and live to tell about it. Half of each set meeting in a scratching clasp, dropping apart with enough time to catch a nap on tattered pillows before dressing and heading out for the night. 

Business as usual.


End file.
